Author's Note: I apologize for the delay in updates. I had too much homework since the last update, but I hope this chapter compensates for the lack of an update. Thanks guys so much for the support. Hope you enjoy! More on the way!
The flat seemed empty without Sherlock, even for the hour that he was gone. The microscope and various Petri dishes were still on the kitchen table, and now inhabited the area were John would sit across from him, in attempts to get him to eat. John sighed with a slight smile. Experiments were all too common in the kitchen, which Sherlock had turned into a science lab more so than a place to prepare food.
To most people's surprise, John actually never minded the odd body parts and organs that Sherlock had collected for experiments. In fact, he found them rather interesting, in a gross way. He only complained about the things in the fridge, especially since Sherlock normally used all the milk to grow a variety of bacteria. Of course, the severed head wasn't the most pleasant surprise, but it was still a gross yet interesting thing on John's list.
Figuring that Sherlock would be late, John put the kettle on. He set out two cups, just in case, but he had his doubts. He was pouring himself a cup of tea when the sound of the door opening and closing reached his ears, along with the scent of John's favorite Thai food that hit his nose when Sherlock walked through the kitchen door.
"Want some tea? I was just getting some fo- Is that Thai I smell?" John said, turning to face Sherlock. Once again, the god he lived with, who had broken down and went to actually buy food for once, was wearing tight skinny jeans, black of course, and his purple shirt. Damn, how many of those shirts does he own? John thought to himself as he quickly met Sherlock's eyes, which seemed to be glistening with mischief. Once again, Sherlock read his mind.
"Tea sounds good, thanks. And yes, I bought Thai; you're favorite actually. I hope you don't mind staying in all day. No new cases, so I figured I'd treat you with dinner. And you don't have to buy groceries for a week; I have enough for the two of us." Sherlock said as he started putting things away. John watched him and made mental notes of the things he bought. A gallon of milk, plus a pint for his bacteria growing; yogurt, vanilla and coffee flavored; eggs; bacon; two loaves of bread, one probably to see how long it takes for mold to grow, knowing Sherlock; two more boxes of tea; batteries.
"Batteries? What are you doing with batteries?" John asked, sipping his tea while looking over at his flatmate. Sherlock smirked.
"You're alarm clock needs new ones. I took them out this morning to use with my latest experiment on acids." Sherlock stated matter-of-factly. John laughed, shaking his head in amusement. It was never boring here, especially when Sherlock's boredom led to a number of varieties of experiments that varied from room to room. This is one thing that had always made John smile, and would always make him smile. Sherlock had the brain of a scientist, and here at home, he used it to its full extent.
As John pulled out the Thai take away, dishing it up evenly between the two plates Sherlock had just set out, he asked in an interested voice. "So, how'd that experiment turn out?" Sherlock smiled proudly and began to explain, in high detail, everything of his experimenting. John listened, though most of it went straight over his head. When he was finished, Sherlock smiled even brighter at John as he said "Maybe next time, you can help me out."
John blinked back the shock. Sherlock never wanted his help, especially with home experiments. Of course, Sherlock never bought food for dinner either. John smiled, nodding. "I think I'd like that." He said as he handed Sherlock a plate on a tray. They sat across from each other in their usual chairs, and chatted about nothing of importance while they ate. It was pleasant to see Sherlock eating for once, and not just a bite here and there. It was a change, but change is good in most cases.
The later it got, the closer they came to each other. Sherlock had begun asking personal questions about John's life before they had met. Although he found it silly, John explained how dull his school days were, and how he longed for adventure and danger. It wasn't until he met Sherlock that he found out about the ongoing criminal war in London, and was extremely excited to have been a part of it for a year now.
The clock stuck nine when the two had switched from sitting in their chairs to sitting side by side on the couch; John with his laptop, and Sherlock with his violin. John noted again that Sherlock was playing a love song, but not just any old love song this time.
The song was different from the others, softer and happier. He never heard it before tonight, but it struck him as more beautiful than any of his favorites had been. This time, John was curious and awake enough to interrogate Sherlock about it. Once the song was finished, John put his hand on Sherlock's thigh.
"What song was that? I've never heard it before, but it was beautiful. Very beautiful, actually." John said, not looking up from his screen. Sherlock's hand fell over his, and he waited until John looked up to speak.
"I wrote it last night, after you went to bed, but before I woke you up with other love songs. It doesn't have a title yet, but there was one in my mind when I wrote it." Sherlock explained in a soft voice. John's heart fluttered lightly.
"And that would be…?" he prompted.
"Dear John." Sherlock said, his voice had lowered, and the words rolled off his tongue in a sweet, cherished manner. John could have sworn his heart stopped beating for a moment. Sherlock's words took less than a second to snap into place, among other thoughts and clues as to what was really going on.
He loves me. John thought to himself, absently leaning closer to his flatmate. Sherlock Holmes, the world's greatest, and only, consulting detective loves me. He didn't even try to stop himself from moving closer, and for once, Sherlock didn't ask him to. In fact, he was leaning over as well.
Their lips met with a soft touch a first, and once again the sparks flew. It felt like two worlds had touched for the first time once again, and John couldn't help but smile against Sherlock's pink lips. Suddenly, Sherlock's hand was on the back of his head, pulling him closer and smashing their lips together in a heated kiss. John's mind raced as his hands flew up, tangling themselves in the brown curls.
For the first time in his life, John felt like he was in the right place. Kissing the various women he had dated over the years had suddenly meant nothing at all, and that was fine. Kissing Sherlock felt like kissing a god, as well as kissing the most amazing man in the history of creation itself, and that was fine too. So what if people thought him strange, he had Sherlock Holmes kissing him, and that's all he'd ever need.
Sherlock pulled away to breath, but was smiling at John; pupils dilated so much the normal grey-blue eyes had almost ceased to exist. Many things ran across John's mind at that moment, but the two strongest feelings were love and lust, two things he'd never felt for Sherlock in his life. Now, they dominated his mind and his actions, and nothing felt nicer.
John let Sherlock breathe for less than a minute before smashing their lips together again. His tongue slide across Sherlock's soft lips and pried them open. He heard Sherlock's muffed groan as he pushed him down onto the couch, and luckily for them, Sherlock had moved the violin to the floor before hand. John was quick with his hands and had Sherlock's purple shirt unbuttoned completely and pushed down off his shoulders in a matter of seconds.
Pulling back, he looked at Sherlock's bare chest once again, and allowed his fingers to trace the muscular plains. Sherlock flexed and shivered lightly as John's fingers ran over his collarbone, and John smirked. Dominating a god had never been this easy.